


Strong Enough to Break

by blueaerin



Series: Useless Dreams [2]
Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Everyone's pretty sad, F/M, Infidelity, Urithiru, shalladin forever, show me a fabrial lift and I will stick cheaters on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 15:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13034400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueaerin/pseuds/blueaerin
Summary: “We all live with regrets, Shallan,” Jasnah said, turning to face her. “ If you're very lucky, you get to pick which ones you live with."





	Strong Enough to Break

**Author's Note:**

> So, thanks to a comment (yay!) I wanted to preface this by saying: I do not think Kaladin would sleep with Shallan in the books. Nor do I think Adolin would sleep around. They're all very responsible and noble (which is why we love them!). BUT as I was reading Oathbringer I kept thinking that they are all in their early twenties (and Shallan isn't even that old). I don't know any people that age who don't occasionally make impulsive, dumb decisions. It just didn't feel true that they would all be super responsible all of the time. So that's where I come in:)

“How long have you been sleeping with the bridgeman?” Jasnah didn’t even look up from neat stacks of paper spread before her on her desk. Shallan had come to drop off the most recent minutes from a meeting with Navani that morning.

“How? I'm not--” she stuttered. How would Jasnah even know? Because of course she did. Shallan’s mind raced through the past couple of weeks, trying to identify what might have tipped Jasnah off.

“Storms girl, I’ve got eyes. And I’m not particularly interested in the details of what you and that gloomy bridgeman do or do not do not your spare time. But if you continue as you have, I will not be the only one to make assumptions.” She looked up. “You understand that I feel a certain sense of obligation to ensure that we do not have any bastards running around the Kholin household.” Jasnah shook her head. “And to think that I believed Adolin would be the problematic part of this betrothal.” 

Shallan thought she might actually die right there. Or maybe she could summon Pattern and cut a hole in the floor? Jasnah’s matter of fact inquiries about her… level of intimacy with Kaladin was worse than anything Shallan had imagined. Jasnah didn’t seem angry--some small part of Shallan almost wanted Jasnah to be angry for cheating on her cousin. Instead, she seemed contemplative as she gestured for Shallan to take a seat in front of her desk. 

“Sit down,” Jasnah said. Shallan didn't move. “I'd rather not,” she said stiffly. “This is my business. I promise--”

“Sit down,” Jasnah said, even as she stood and walked across the room where a pitcher of wine stood. “Have a drink. You certainly look as if you could use it. Don't think I haven't seen those dark circles you’ve been trying to hide lately. Although those have been explained now, I believe.” She poured Shallan and herself a cup of wine and then sat back at her desk.

“I know this is hard, Shallan.”

“Do you?” Shallan cried out, then got ahold of herself. Jasnah had enough reasons to think she was a child without her shouting at her. “I just meant, Brightness, that you may be the most knowledgeable woman in the kingdom, but perhaps this is one area where I have to figure things out on my own.”

Jasnah looked like Shallan had slapped her. “And do you think, child, that I have never loved?”

“I--” what did Shallan think? She knew men had approached Jasnah, had courted her, had been turned away one by one. “I thought your studies were enough,” she said after a moment. 

“I am not stone,” Jasnah said so quietly that Shallan had to lean forward to hear her. She shook her head, as if to clear away unwanted thoughts. “Walk with me, Shallan.” Shallan took another sip of wine and debated following her. She didn’t feel up to holding a conversation with Jasnah. 

Jasnah crossed the room without looking back to see if Shallan was following and then pressed her hand against the smooth stone of the blank wall. It disappeared, revealing a staircase beyond. Jasnah started down it and Shallan swore, setting down her wine glass and following her, as she was sure Jasnah had known she would.

“The stone answers easily here,” Jasnah said when Shallan caught up with her. “Why would that be, Shallan?” She didn’t answer, but Jasnah stopped and turned to her, staring at her with her bright eyes.

“It’s been called before,” Shallan said at last. Jasnah nodded and they walked in silence, surrounded by red and gray strata. The colors reminded Shallan of the colors of carapace on the Voidbringers and she felt a seam of despair rip through her. The next desolation was coming and she couldn't handle her love life. Jasnah should be studying, not having to lecture her. 

The staircase ended and they entered a hallway that was so narrow that Jasnah had to tuck the full skirt of her havah behind her just to move through. Shallan heard her own breathing echoed back to her, reminding her that they were essentially buried under a mountain. She felt fear coloring the edges of her vision and then they were through the passage, coming out into a cavernous space so large that Shallan felt like she was falling. 

The narrow path turned to her right and left, leading into the darkness at either end of the cavernous space. There was a low railing in front of Shallan carved in an intricate lattice of leaves and beasts. She could see that they were near the ceiling of a vast cavern, but she was most interested in the carvings. She knelt, tucking her skirt under her knees to cushion against the hard stone floor, and ran her fingers along the carvings. She didn't recognize any of the plant types, and she only knew one of the animals--there was a horse carved into the stone, its mane blown back in an unseen wind. 

“I brought you up here in part because I would like sketches of the railings. They're quite extensive, but I can't help but think we will learn at least a little from having a record of this. You should prioritize your other work, but this seemed like a good opportunity for you to work with a scale model, something that will no doubt be useful as we fill in the dark spaces on the map of Urithiru.”

“Thank you,” said Shallan, looking down the gallery that stretched ahead in the darkness. “Do the images repeat?” 

“I am not sure,” Jasnah said, “although I would assume so. The gallery does ring the entire marketplace, after all.”

Shallan stood, peering down at hat she had missed before--the entire main cavern of Urithiru that they had appropriated as a market after fleeing from the shattered plains. She and Jasnah were still far from it, but Jasnah took off walking at a good place and they were soon directly over the tumult and hubbub below. 

They watched the bustle of the marketplace in silence. Shallan thought they must be at least 100 feet above the floor of the cavern, too far for any light to reach them. Why had someone taken the trouble to make such elaborate carvings all the way here? And why build this gallery in the first place? It seemed far too high to be of any practical use, like the galleries sometimes used to hide musicians during balls, or where scribes could sit out of the way but still hear the conversation. Up here the bustle of the market sounded like a babbling stream, all of the individual noises joining to form a steady rush of noise. 

Shallan turned to Jasnah, watching her eyes flicker back and forth through the market, as if trying to discern a pattern in the randomness. She wanted to draw her, to fill a page with her figure, resolute even in contemplation. She knew few people as alive and vibrant as Jasnah.

Jasnah must have felt Shallan’s eyes and she turned and gave her a faint smile before turning back to the scene below them. “I originally intended to bring you here to give you perspective, Shallan. To give you a sense of the level of thinking you must consider your life and goals from. But I am not sure that I believe my own lessons today.”

“I--”

“Just listen, Shallan. For once.” Jasnah paused as if gathering her thoughts. “I was only twenty when I fell in love. Although that's older than you are now, so perhaps I shouldn’t say ‘only.’ I...we… We were so young. It's hard to remember what I was like then. It’s like looking at an old friend that you haven’t seen for years. Utterly familiar, but never the same. We forget so quickly what it’s like to be young and in love.” She turned to Shallan. “Because I was in love. And it was no passing fancy, Shallan.” Shallan must have looked skeptical because Jasnah frowned. 

“I am not a poet, girl. But it was like… Waking up and feeling the sun on your face for the first time after the Weeping. The whole world seemed more real, more charged, like a sphere after a Highstorm.” She paused. “Will that satisfy your needs for description?” Shallan nodded. She had never seen the look on Jasnah’s face before. She looked younger, more vulnerable. 

“We were together for three years,” Jasnah said.

“What happened?” Shallan asked softly. “Did he leave?”

“She,” Jasnah corrected, staring at the market below. “She was a scribe for Gavilar. I was just lucky she hadn't joined the Ardentia. She had such a mind--she was wasted taking notes and preparing speeches but she didn't seem to mind. She always said she was glad to do her duty for the king. She was one of the only people I've been known who didn't mistake ignorance for happiness. And then she left. No--” Jasnah stopped her own narrative. “That’s not entirely true. I made her leave.”

Shallan didn’t speak.

“Love isn’t enough, Shallan.” Jasnah continued. “I have always thought about my family Shallan. I have undermined our enemies. I have guarded our secrets. If we had stayed together, I would have been relegated to a less important role. I wouldn’t have had the leverage I needed to do the research about the Voidbringers. As long as other Alethi families believe that I am an option to unite themselves with the Kholins, then I hold cards that they do not.”

“But if you loved her--”

“But what, Shallan?” Jasnah’s voice changed, roughened around the edges. “Love changes you, but it doesn’t change the world.” She shook her head, got ahold of herself, turned to look at Shallan. “And you always have choices, girl. And not just between Adolin and Kaladin. A good marriage isn't the only path forward for you, or your scholarship, although it would make things easier. You are a Radiant, Shallan, one of the first the world has seen in 4,000 years. You can make your own path.”

“I-”

“I know that right now you may feel like you have too many choices, but really you have one decision to make--who do you want to be?”

The one question that Shallan couldn't answer.

“When you know what you want, what your goals are, I think your answer will be clear.”

“And then what?”

“And then you live with your decision.” Shallan heard Jasnah's voice fall, saw her eyes darken. “You live with it every day. And sometimes at night you'll wake and turn for someone who isn't there. Or you'll hear someone else breathing next to you and know that part of your heart will never be theirs” Jasnah's face looked like carved stone, lit from below by the lights of the marketplace. “I still get letters from her, sometimes. She's part of my informant network. She lives with another woman in the Reshi Isles.” 

“How do you do it?” Shallan could feel traitorous tears in her eyes. 

“We all live with regrets, Shallan,” Jasnah said, turning to face her. “ If you're very lucky, you get to pick which ones you live with. But you choose for yourself, Shallan. That's the important part.”

Shallan watched the bustle below, arms wrapped around herself, tears falling silently. She thought she heard Jasnah mutter something that sounded like “foolishness” and she put an arm around Shallan’s shoulders. 

“Just breathe, girl.” Shallan took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to smile at her.

“Is that what Navani used to tell you?”

“I never let her see me cry, so I wouldn't know.”

Shallan rolled her eyes and Jasnah sniffed. “That's very unbecoming on a young lady of your age. That you have any suitors at all is remarkable.” Shallan felt a laugh break free, a sort of wet, pathetic laugh that stuck in her throat, but a laugh nonetheless.

“And now I really do have more important things to do. As do you, I imagine.” Shallan nodded and they walked back to Jasnah's rooms. Shallan gathered her things and was half-way through the door when Jasnah said, quite matter of factly, “And you will let me know if you need help not conceiving, Shallan. I’m not sure if that's a traditional for a mentor-ward relationship, but I imagine I can make an exception.” 

Shallan felt herself go scarlet and shut the door behind her as quickly as she could, feeling embarrassed and oddly comforted all at once, even as she wondered whether the sadness in Jasnah's eyes would be hers someday.

 

_______________________________________________________________________________

 

Nothing had changed. Everything had. She was still Shallan, currently waiting patiently for the fabrial lift, her sketchbook tucked under her arm, running a little late for yet another meeting that Jasnah had insisted she attend. Her conversation with Jasnah drifted through her mind, but Shallan pushed it away. She didn’t want to think about choices now, not when she was just  
realizing what being herself could mean. 

She had always been a little scared, a little eager to please, a little too clever for her own good. Shallan had never thought of herself as someone who was worthy of love; every stolen minute spent with Kaladin convinced her that she was. She’d found herself spending less time as Radiant and Veil the last several weeks because for the first time in her life, being herself felt good. 

It felt more than good; every part of her body felt alive. Shallan could still feel Kaladin’s last kiss, on the back of her neck before she’d rolled out of bed, as if it was glowing. She was acutely aware of every brush of her skirts, the way her hair fell down her back, the weight of her satchel--she could even feel Kaladin, although he was standing an appropriate distance away from her, arms folded, waiting for the same lift to the meeting with Dalinar. 

He caught her eye and grinned wolfishly as the the doors of the lift opened and some scribes and ardents filed out. They stepped in together and Shallan put a diamond chip in the railing of the lift, feeling Kaladin’s hand on her back, his hair brushing her cheek as he kissed her ear.

“We are in public,” she whispered, trying her best to frown at him and gesturing to the vast expanse of the east facing window in front of them, the other fabrial lifts moving above and below them. 

“Maybe I was just showing you how the lift worked?” Shallan glared at him. She wanted to step closer, but just as the doors of the lift were about to close a hand reached in and pushed the doors back open. Shallan stepped up automatically to hold the doors but felt an immediate twist of dread in her stomach when the doors opened fully to reveal Adolin. She saw Kaladin tense up out of the corner of her eye and sighed inwardly. 

“Thanks,” Adolin said to Shallan with a grin, who let the doors slide closed. His hair was tousled, but not in his usual deliberate way and his cravat was lopsided. He’d even missed a button on his uniform. Shallan knew she should feel guiltier that she was cheating on Adolin, but he’d seemed so distracted lately. They’d kept their routine, more or less, but lately Adolin had seemed less...present? He’d told her that he’d found a new group of friends that he played cards with in the evenings, but now as she looked at him, she wondered if there wasn’t another reason and felt a sudden sharp ripple of jealousy course through her, which didn’t make any sense--she was the one who had been unfaithful. 

Not daring to make eye contact with anyone on the lift, Shallan pretended to search through her satchel for her notebook, until Adolin stepped next to her, gripping the railing to look over, and she knew that she couldn’t ignore him anymore. 

“Storms, why does Dalinar insist on holding these meetings so early?” he said with a yawn. 

“To weed out the weaklings,” Shallan said. “I’ve heard that those who can’t make it to early meetings with their uniforms correctly buttoned get demoted.” Adolin looked down and grumbled as he fixed his buttons and readjusted his cravat. 

“Thanks Shallan,” he said, leaning in and kissing her on the forehead. “How did your research go last night? I know it’s strange to say that I’m looking forward to going to Kholinar, but I am. Maybe I’ll actually get to see you then.” 

“Hmm…” Shallan hummed noncommittally. “If you’re not too busy playing cards, of course.” 

“I lost track of time,” Adolin said quickly. “Stayed later then I meant to. Bridgeboy, you know how it is when you get caught up at games--”

“I really don’t,” Kaladin said flatly. 

“You should come with me sometime. We could use a fourth player.” 

“I can’t.” 

“You mean you won’t.” Adolin’s voice suddenly sounded a little harsher. He’d been more unpredictable lately, his sunny nature more prone to sudden mood swings. If you were a better woman, Shallan thought, you might know why. Kaladin just shrugged, turning away, from Adolin and Shallan when the lift suddenly shuddered and dropped a few feet. Shallan dropped her sketchbook in her haste to grab the railing, but thankfully the lift stopped after only a few feet. Shallan was suddenly more aware than ever of the sheer size of Urithiru, and the stunning drop beneath them. 

“Storming old fabrials,” Adolin swore. “Are you okay?” Shallan nodded, bending to grab a few papers. Adolin immediately jumped to help her, handing her loose pages. Kaladin walked to the railing and pulled out the diamond chip, which was still glowing. 

“Looks like we’re flying out of here,” he said. “I can lash both of you.” 

“Always the hero,” Adolin muttered handing a few more sheets of paper to Shallan and then leaning back to look at the twelve feet or so of solid rock that loomed above them before the next lift opening. 

“It’d probably be easier if you put me on your shoulders. I can jump from there and pull you up.” Shallan shuffled her papers, wishing desperately that this would all end. Being here with both of them was too much. She could feel the parts of her that she’d kept separate, that she’d worked so hard to hide starting to fragment and collide in uncomfortable ways. There. That was all her papers. Except for one, she realized with a sudden jolt. 

“Just let me lash you upwards. We won’t even be late.” 

“I just don’t think--” 

“Is there a problem, brightlord?” Kaladin said between gritted teeth. Shallan wasn’t even listening. She was just staring at the piece of paper on the floor underneath Adolin’s boot. It was probably another sketch of the strata in Urithiru. 

“I’m not the one with the hero complex,” Adolin replied. Shallan could feel him tense next to her and she put her hand on his arm. “And at least I'm not a disrespectful--” 

“I called you brightlord.” Adolin ran his hands through his hair and stepped towards Kaladin. 

“I don’t care what you called me, bridgeboy. It’s your tone--” He noticed the paper beneath his boot and kneeled to pick it up. 

“Shallan, I--” he had turned it over as he handed it to her and he froze, still kneeling, looking up at her with his eyes wide and disbelieving. Shallan reached out her hand automatically to take the picture. It was just a sketch, really, only showing shape and form, but nevertheless unmistakably Kaladin. Kaladin as he’d been the other morning, shaving shirtless, turning to laugh at something she’d said. His face was only roughly penciled in but she’d managed to capture the way he frowned even while laughing. 

She liked to make him laugh, to see past the years of scars to his heart. She knew that some people found Kaladin cold and unfeeling, which wasn’t true. He had too many feelings, and he protected himself with his gruffness. That had been a good morning. It had been--

Shallan felt five heartbeats pass, then ten, an eternity hanging on that second. Adolin didn’t call his shardblade though, he didn’t even move. She saw betrayal flash through Adolin’s eyes and then, worse, resignation. Am I strong enough, the thought came, to break his heart? Shallan felt hot and then cold, taking the paper and crumpling it in her hand. She couldn’t breathe, she--

Adolin recovered, standing, and turning his motion into a swing at Kaladin’s head. Kaladin had the advantage and stepped back, Adolin swinging his hand full force into the rock wall behind Kaladin’s head. Shallan could hear bones snap but Adolin just turned and swung again, with his other fist.

Kaladin stood there. As the blow landed, he closed his eyes. He turned his head, afterword and put a hand to his face. 

“Tell me it didn’t matter,” Adolin said, turning to Shallan. “Tell me it wasn’t real.” Shallan looked him in the eyes, and Adolin turned away before she could think of something to say. It was too late. He'd seen the truth in her eyes, stepping back as if she'd hit him. 

Then Shallan was flying upwards, Kaladin’s hand on both her and Adolin. He hadn’t even asked, just stepped forward and lashed them upwards, carrying them the short distance to the next floor. They landed on the floor, the last of the scribes and ardents trickling towards the large meeting room at the end of the hallway. Kaladin landed beautifully but Shallan and Adolin stumbled. 

Without another glance Adolin jogged down the hallway, holding his broken hand and disappeared into the meeting room. Kaladin glanced at Shallan then let his eyes fall. Shallan could see the skin on his face already raised and puffy, blood pooling around the corner of his eye, darkening it. 

“We should go,” he said, walking towards the meeting. 

“Use your stormlight,” Shallan said, walking stiffly beside him. 

“I deserve it,” Kaladin whispered. 

“Stop it--” 

“I was never meant to dream, Shallan. I keep forgetting that.” 

“Kaladin--”

“What good are dreams, Shallan? All they do is crush you with their weight.” 

Kaladin lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch her cheek but then they were at the doorway and strode through without another glance, taking his place across the room. Shallan felt herself crumbling. Shallan--Shallan would deal with this later. Sucking in a little stormlight she became Radiant, straightening her spine, brushing away her tears, striding across the room. She nodded at Jasnah as she sat and pulled out her writing pad, leaving a single crumpled sheet at the bottom of her bag. 

 

_______________________________________________________________________________

 

Shallan was Veil. Shallan was Radiant. She haunted the halls of Urithiru, the practice arena, to the marketplace, and drank and fought. Last night she’d gotten in a drunken brawl as Veil, and had to have Vatha come bail her out of the tiny stone room where they’d crammed her with other people making trouble at the market. None of it helped.

She lay in her bed a few hours later, stormlight having burned away her hangover and healed her cracked ribs, but she still felt awful. She didn’t know what time it was, but judging by the stillness in Urithiru it was still early.

“Shallan?” Pattern hummed. He sounded worried, but also scared. Was she scaring spren now? She was a worsemess than she’d thought.

“Yes?”

“Shallan, I do not think this lie suits you.”

“I'm not telling any lies, Pattern. Jasnah said I need to know what I want, and I think I should figure that out before I make an even bigger mess of things. That’s why I’m avoiding everyone.”

“Is drinking and fighting and hitting things with Shardblades helpful in matters of the heart?” Pattern seemed genuinely intrigued. 

“Yes,” Shallan said. “If your goal is to forget.”

“But that is not your goal!” Pattern’s buzzing took on a higher register. “Your goal is to remember. To decide. Although I am not sure why you must pick only one. It seems as if your previous arrangement was working quite well.”

“It's just not done, for one thing. And I do want to choose.”

“Jasnah is right, you know. You can choose neither. I cannot offer you...many things, but I will always be your companion, if you should choose.”

Shallan felt a tear come to her eye, a common occurrence lately. “Pattern, that is one of the sweetest things anyone has said to me.”

“I am only telling the truth, Shallan. You are one of my favorite humans. I know I should not pick favorite research subjects, but that I part of the bond, I suppose.” Shallan felt a genuine smile on her face. 

“I suppose you can make an exception, just this once.”

There was a knock on the door, or well, on the wall next to the blanket Shallan had hung there. 

“Brightness Radiant?” A voice called hesitantly. She recognized that cultured Azish accent from somewhere.

“Brightlady?” A deeper voice. She would know Rock’s voice anywhere. Shallan tidied her messy hair and made sure her safehand was buttoned as she drew aside the curtain. 

“Yes?” she had been right. It was Rock and the Azish man from bridge four, Sigzil, standing in her doorway. Sigzil was looking nervously up and down the hall while Rock, towering over him, stood casually with his arms folded. 

“Ah, good.” Sigzil said. “Are you, alone?”

“What's the problem?”

“While we have no wish to presume upon your time, nor do we wish to presume about how you may have spent that time in the recent past, it seem as if--” Rock cut him off with a wave of his hand. 

“What Sigzil is trying to say, you see, is that we are knowing,” he tapped the side of his nose in a gesture that Shallan didn't recognize “we are knowing that Captain Kaladin has been happy lately.”

“Practically merry,” Sigzil muttered. 

“And that Kaldin has not gotten out of bed for two days now, except when Rock visited him personally, and gave him good Horneater soup.” Shallan saw Sigzil’s face twist with disgust.

“I'm not sure how I can help--” Sigzil sighed. 

“Brightness Radiant, could you please come talk to him? We promise to be discreet. That’s why we came so early.” So Jasnah had been right. Of course storming bridge four knew. Shallan felt herself color a little, but she felt the nervousness that she had carried the last month lessen slightly. The worst had happened. People knew. And she was still standing. She looked down and saw Pattern on her skirt. He was right. This lie didn't suit her. 

“You do your captain honor, men.” She said. “That storming man never did know when to ask for help.” 

“That is what Rock says,” he boomed, sounding delighted and slapping his chest. “Is still early. We should go now, before others are awake.”

 

“Kaladin?” he heard her shut the door softly, and enter his room. He hadn't bothered to put out any spheres and it was completely dark when she entered. He heard her pause and then the room lightened, the almost-steady glow of spheres lighting the small space. He kept his face to the wall. He should have fought for her, but he’d seen the loss on her face when Adolin confronted her. Did she love him too? Or was she just sorry to be caught? Kaladin didn't respond, or even turn to Shallan as she sat next to him, resting her hand on his back. 

He thought of all the things he’d never find the words to say--He wanted to shout that Adolin didn't get to say that they were over. Uncertainties haunted him but when all the words he thought about saying lay heavy as stone in his mouth. 

Kaladin had thought she would talk--words were as natural to Shallan as the spear was to him, but instead she curled herself around him, wrapping her arms around his chest, nestling her face into his neck. He could feel her heart beating, steady and strong, a familiar rhythm. They lay like that for a long time in silence, and Kaladin felt Shallan's breath catch, her heart slow. She was asleep. 

He felt, for the first time since he'd fought with Adolin on the fabrial lift, that something good was within his reach. He turned, gently so as not to wake her, and held her in his arms. She smelled, strangely, of lavis beer and the stale smell of the lock-in, like the one he’d help drag Teft from the other day. Well, Shallan would always have her secrets. He hoped he wouldn’t be one of them. He pulled her close and for the first time in days he fell into a deep sleep.

She was still there when he woke up, watching him sleep, sitting on his bed with her hands around her knees. 

“You are one of the ten fools,” she said with a small grin.

“I’ve missed you too.” His voice felt scratchy and unused. When was the last time that he’d left this room? Storms, he hated this darkness that came over him. He fought the darkness back, enough at least to sit up, leaning against the cold stone wall again.

“Did you really think I’d leave you?” she asked.  
“Yes.” Shallan looked away. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered, “be you.”

“Sometimes I feel like that is who I am. Always sorry. Always letting people down.” 

“We’re going to Kholinar in a week. Dalinar needs you. Your men need you. I need you.” 

“Do you?” 

“Do you even have to ask?”

“But that’s not the right question anymore, is it?” he said, not realizing until afterward that he’d said it out loud. Shallan shook her head slowly. How could he be feeling so many things at once? Joy, anger, sorrow coursed through him in equal measure.

“I love you, but I don’t know what means.” She said it like a plea, a confession, a prayer. And then she rose, absently trailing a hand along his leg as she stood. The gesture was so casual, so intimate, that Kaladin felt tears come to his eyes at the thought of what he could lose. 

“You’re going to talk to him, aren’t you?” She nodded. 

“It’s long past due. You don’t have to...I mean, if you can’t I understand.” Her eyes were pools of sorrow. He knew they were reflections of his own. 

“I’ll wait, Shallan. Not forever.” It was all he could give her. 

“Thank you. It’s more than I deserve.” And then she was gone. 

Kaladin would wait for her. And he would start by getting out of this storming bed.

 

_______________________________________________________________________________

 

It was still early when the knock came on Adolin’s door, but he was already up and dressed, his hair still wet from the baths. He hadn’t been able to sleep, again, so he’d gone to the practice grounds and woken up some of the ardents to practice with him. Truth was, that was almost all he’d been doing for the past week. 

He knew before he’d opened the door that it was Shallan, but it was still surprising when he opened his door and she walked past him, sitting down at one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs he kept around the table. He wanted to get better furniture soon, but that wasn’t really a priority right now. He watched, arms folded, as Shallan settled onto the chair but then shifted and shifted again, finally placing her satchel beneath her. 

“I know that Dalinar wants to keep his camp compact before we discover more about Urithiru, but I didn’t realize we were so pressed for space that they were using your room for interrogations now. This chair is awful.” Adolin didn’t smile. 

“Adolin--” 

“If you came here to apologize I’d be happy to talk. If it’s anything else I don’t think I’m in the mood. I guess that happens when you find out your causal betrothed’s been sleeping with the bridgeboy.” He felt his voice rising.

“Adolin--” 

“What?” The word came out spitefully and he barely suppressed the urge to kick something. 

“That’s fair. But if you shout at me, I will leave. I’m done being shouted at.” Her last comment came out like a whisper and he saw it then, the pain in her eyes that she’d never shared. He remember all the times he’d heard Dalinar shouting at his mother and he felt like a monster. He’d hated him for that, and here he was, doing the same. He had grown up knowing, almost before he had the words to articulate it, that his parents marriage had been far from perfect. What he and Shallan had was far less broken. He wanted to try. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, walking to Shallan and taking her free hand in his. She looked surprised, as if she had expected him to refuse her request. It made him feel even worse, knowing that she didn’t trust him enough to know that he would respect what she wanted. 

“I will never shout at you. I swear on my mother’s grave.” Shallan nodded solemnly. 

“I just, before--Shallan, I’ve never cared this much about anyone. It makes me scared, which makes me angry. I’m still trying to figure out what everything means.” 

“So you don’t know what you want?”

“Storms, Shallan. Of course I do. I want you. That night, with the poem--” that seemed to be where all the problems had started “that night, I came back to your rooms, to apologize. To tell you all of the things I couldn’t say the first time around. But you were already gone. It had only been a few minutes and you were already gone. And that hurt, Shallan. I thought you had more faith in me than that.” 

She nodded, lips pressed together. Oh Stormfather, he was going to make her cry. 

“Do you know?” he asked quietly. She shook her head, slightly and Adolin took a long shuddering breath. 

“So.” Shallan gave him a shaky grin. 

“So now what?” she said, wiping her eyes. “I can go, if you want.” Adolin was trying to understand what he felt. He had always been the son that Dalinar wanted, the golden child, the soldier. He’d never had trouble finding women to court--storms, he’d looked in a mirror. He knew he was handsome. This was new, the sense of wanting but not being wanted. Of loving so much it felt like a highstorm, but receiving only a trickle of water in return. He wanted to walk away. 

He thought of the time he’d spent with Janala these past few weeks, how easy everything had been. He’d never been more miserable. Maybe he should do the hard thing. 

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice rough, almost desperate. “Shallan, I just need to know that I’m the only one.” 

“I know. I need time.” Adolin resisted another urge, this time to shove his shardblade through the middle of the table. 

“Alright. But soon, Shallan?” 

“Soon.” She gave him a shaky smile and he stood, running his hands through his still damp hair. 

“Good,” he said grinning. “Can I see you? Before we go to Kholinar, I mean? Is that enough time?” She stood, gathering her satchel. She’d only been here a few minutes. He looked around, desperate to keep her here longer. 

“Have you eaten?” he said. “I could get some breakfast. Let me just ask whoever’s on duty.” He turned, searching for his boots and Shallan stood, putting her bag down and going over to his bed. 

“Alright,” she said, “but I’m going to sit on your pillow. That chair’s going to--” she pulled his pillow off the bed and he saw her face go white and then scarlet. She put it back and had already crossed the room to grab her bag before he could even react. 

“Shallan!” he called, but she was already out of his room, letting the door slam behind her. Adolin crossed the bed in three quick strides and threw back his pillow. A glove. Thin, white cloth, a little lace around the cuff. Janala’s safehand glove, the one she’d worn under her pinned sleeve The one he’d taken off of her a week ago, the same day he’d found out about Shallan and Kaladin. 

Adolin hung his head, feeling like the world’s worst fool. 

 

_______________________________________________________________________________

 

A week later they left for Kholinar.

**Author's Note:**

> Five points to Gryffindor (or house of your choice) if you find grammar errors. I know that I definitely didn't catch them all.


End file.
